Sistanism: An Attempt to Combine Shi’ism with Democracy in Post-2003 Iraq

Abstract

This chapter is a contribution to the literatures that debate about the relationship between religion and democracy, particularly between Shi’ism and democracy that has not adequately been addressed by scholars. The chapter attempts at highlighting the way religion (Shi’ism) is fused with democracy in post-2003 Iraq and the role of Ayatollah Sistani in sponsoring such a fusion and thus maintaining the political system from a distance. Sistani’s power in Iraq is not based on his religious status only, but also on a carefully constructed relationship between himself and the government of Iraq on the one hand and between himself and the people (the Shi’i population of Iraq) on the other. Through his ever-changing strategies and tactics, I argue that Sistani was able to combine Shi’ism with democracy, not in a strictly secular sense or in a wholly Islamist way, but through a practical compromise between the two. He has maintained the balance so well that neither the government nor Shi’is can now ignore his suggestions when disagreements occur. In doing so, Sistani will stay a key figure that sustains a pattern of democratic regime that is at ease with Shi’ism in Iraq.

1. Introduction

Since the fall of Saddam Hussein’s regime at the hands of the U.S. military in 2003, Iraq has witnessed the rise of Islamic parties, Shi’i Islamic parties specifically. Although the Iraqi political system is not based on religion, as it is in Iran, Islam still remains the most powerful tool for shaping and reshaping the country’s political realities, primarily because of the domination of Shi’i Islamic parties in Iraqi politics. Such an outcome seems inevitable given the years of suppression and persecution that the Shi’i population suffered under the rule of Saddam Hussein’s Arab Ba’th Socialist Party. Since 2003, there has been one figure at the center of the Iraqi politics, at least for the Shi’i population: Ayatollah Ali Sistani, the highest marja’ (the grand source of emulation) of the Shi’i sect of Islam in Iraq. He designed, supervised, and produced the political landscape in Iraq after the fall of Saddam Hussein’s regime. Ostensibly, Sistani does not directly involve himself in politics, but he has the power to control political outcomes behind the scenes because of the carefully constructed relationship he ensures to sustain between himself and the government of Iraq and between himself and the majority of the people of Iraq (i.e., the Shi’i citizens).

Before we elaborate on these relationships, it is important to talk about two prominent ruling theories in Shi’i jurisprudence at the time of the occultation of imam al-Mahdi, the last of the Twelve imams according to the Twelvers. According to the Twelver Shi’i teachings, al-Mahdi was hidden and then saved by Allah so that he would be protected from assassination by the caliph’s army during the Abbasid Caliphate in the ninth century. The Twelvers believe that al-Mahdi will be sent to Earth along with Jesus to bring peace and justice to all of humankind at the end of time. Mainstream Shi’i ‘ulama’ (jurists) believe in what is known as the limited wilayat al-faqih (limited guardianship of the Islamic jurist), a conventional ruling theory that holds that the Islamic faqih (jurist) has no obligated guardianship authority over Muslim societies during the occultation of al-Mahdi but only over orphans and mentally disabled people who have no other guardians. They have been viewed as “quietist” jurists who have no say in politics. The other ruling theory is called general wilayat al-faqih (a general mandate or guardianship of the Islamic jurist), which holds that the jurist is obligated to rule Muslim society according to shari’a law whenever the circumstances permit. This idea is relatively new in Shi’i religious literature. It can be traced back to ayatollah al-Naraqi, who died in Iran in 1829. Naraqi educated people on the necessity of protecting Shi’i Muslims via an Islamic government ruled by a jurist. He encouraged jurists and blessed those who were trying to form an Islamic government under their direct rule. Naraqi was the first jurist to use the concept of general wilayat al-faqih ([1], p. 399). Naraqi’s ideas influenced several other jurists in subsequent years, including ayatollah Khomeini, the revolutionary Shi’i faqih who toppled the Shah’s regime and established the Islamic Republic of Iran in 1979. Khomeini was heavily influenced by this notion, and he called for an Islamic government in his well-known lectures of 1970 (see [2]). He and all other jurists who believed in this concept were said to have transformed Shi’ism from “quietism” to “activism.”

Sistani is a mainstream Shi’i jurist who does not believe in general wilayat al-faqih. Rather, he believes that jurists should not be involved in politics. However, he engages in political maneuvering to such an extent that his actions are viewed to be consistent with a form of unspoken general wilayat al-faqih, similar to Iran’s system since 1979. He also became a powerbroker that neither the government nor the people can ignore when disagreements occur. This chapter is a contribution to the literatures that debate about the relationship between religion and democracy, particularly between Shi’ism and democracy that has not adequately been addressed by scholars. The chapter attempts at highlighting the way religion (Shi’ism) is fused with democracy in post-2003 Iraq and the role of Ayatollah Sistani in sponsoring such a fusion and thus maintaining the political system from a distance. The chapter sheds light on the strategies and tactics that Sistani continues to employ to maintain his position as a powerful mediator between the state and the people. The focus of the chapter is on the period of 2003 to 2015. Sistani uses democratic tools along with religious doctrines to enable Shi’i participation in the process of state-building. Such a strategy, I argue, helps create compatibility between Shi’ism and democracy. Using this strategy, Sistani has carefully designed a relationship between al-marja’iyya (higher religious authority) and the government of Iraq (higher political authority). Since 2003, he has been the voice of the people and an umbrella under which the government can act. His position between the people and their government has created a unique, mutually beneficial relationship between himself and the government. In short, both parties need each other. Sistani’s combination of Shi’ism and democracy has nothing to do with quietism or activism. He draws a thin line between Shi’ism and democracy, and he stands “closer” to democratic system than to any form of theocratic government.

2. Literature review

Since Sistani rose to prominence after 2003, pundits have debated his role while looking through the quietist-activist lens. Reidar Visser suggests that neither quietism nor passivism satisfactorily explains Sistani’s actions; the explanation lies somewhere in between the two [3]. He bases his assessment on Sistani’s intervention in politics. Visser views Sistani before 2003 as a quietist cleric who had never intervened in politics. He never even mentioned the state in his writings or in his speeches. However, from June of 2003 to December of 2004, Sistani became a very active cleric who started using his announcements and bayanat (pl. statements) to direct his followers, including politicians, to undertake certain political actions. After December of 2004, Sistani returned to seclusion ([3], p. 17). Visser believes that changing circumstances demanded this oscillation from Sistani, and he suggests that Sistani’s actions do not fit into the quietist-activist dichotomy. He maintains that understanding Sistani requires that we think of his professional interests as a faqih. One of these professional interests is the protection of traditional Shi’i hawza (school) whenever it is threatened by other non-accredited Shi’i religious trends, such the Sadrist Movement.¹ Visser holds that these “professional interests” are the main reasons why Sistani’s intervention in politics is “spasmodic rather than incremental” ([3], p. 28). It is not just Sistani who takes such an approach. According to Visser, “other scholars with supposedly ‘apolitical’ credentials have occasionally switched to more activist modes when it suited their professional interests to do so” ([3], pp. 23–24).

This interpretation gives us a picture of why Sistani’s professional interests are instrumental in his incremental interference in politics, but it does not show us how such an approach allowed him to become influential over both politicians and the public. Ahmed al-Rahim argues that such interference became so meaningful because of Sistani’s ability to blend politics with religion by using religious symbols to affect people’s political choices. In the 2005 elections, Sistani’s assistants pushed the Shi’i population to vote in droves by linking their actions with the actions of religious figures from early Islam, leaders such as imam al-Hussein (the third imam of Shi’i Twelvers) and his sister Zainab [4]. Thousands of slogans and banners were hung all over Iraqi cities, all of which explained how voting was a religious act that aligned with Qur’anic texts and the imams’ teachings. According to al-Rahim, the “history of Shi’ite disenfranchisement that stretches back to the beginnings of modern Iraq” encouraged Sistani to engage in politics directly, specifically in his insistence on early elections to help the Shi’i population gain control in parliament in Iraq ([4], p. 52). Al-Rahim believes that Sunni domination and the historical exclusion of Shi’i citizens from the circles of power in the Iraqi government were the prime motives for Sistani’s promotion of Shi’ism to a position of power in the new political landscape created after the fall of Saddam Hussein’s regime.

Much like al-Rahim, Vali Nasr believes that the Shi’i revival and Sistani’s role in Iraq came as a reaction to what the Shi’i people have historically faced under Sunni dominated governments in the Middle East [5]. However, Nasr focuses primarily on the recent shift in relations between the United States of America and the Sunni Arab regimes in the region, explaining that the change in those relationships provided an opportunity for the Shi’i population to present itself as a trusted ally to America. Nasr points out that Arab regimes and their people turned against America when the U.S. decided to remove Saddam Hussein—and, by extension, the Sunni regime—from power and to allow the Shi’i people to revive and take control of the country. Hence, the U.S. was under pressure to either deal with the Shi’i population, with Sistani as its negotiator, and to give them a bigger role in post-2003 Iraq or to go back to the old strategy and grant Sunnis power again in order to satisfy Sunni Arab regimes. The first solution could threaten the American interests and relations with the Arab Sunni regimes in the region; the second solution might create chaos and instability in Iraq given that the Shi’i population would not give up its chance this time to rule the country.

The Bush Administration had no choice but to lean toward the Shi’i population and its aspirations for power because they were “more likely to react positively to democracy than the Sunnis whose politics are increasingly defined by their rejection of the U.S. imposed order in Iraq” ([5], p. 22). Nevertheless, the administration sought to form a Shi’i-Sunni balance by trying to convince armed Sunni groups to join the political process and to work with the Shi’i population to create a consociational government. U.S. officials failed to convince the armed Sunni groups to lay down their weapons and join the political process, which meant that the Shi’i population and the Kurds became the only allies America could trust in Iraq. This situation helped Sistani become an influential partner, one with whom the Americans had to work (though indirectly) in order to establish a new political order in Iraq. The challenge was to determine the extent that Sistani was willing to engage in politics to help the Shi’i population gain power in the new Iraq. Ernesto Braam explains that Sistani was well aware that too much involvement in politics would discredit him and prevent him from being perceived as a neutral figure who was above political parties, and too little involvement would make him appear less relevant in the political scene, thus lessening his influence in the eyes of his followers ([6], p. 15). In spite of the difficulty of the situation, Sistani managed, Braam says, to strike a healthy balance by constructing a very powerful image of himself as he maintained his distance from day-to-day activities and stuck to “the grand rules.” Braam, like Visser, does not see the quietist-activist dichotomy as a fit for Sistani’s actions. He believes that Sistani’s charisma and moral authority make both the politicians and the people seek his advice and his support when problems arise.

Despite the fact that Sistani’s moral authority and religious status qualify him to be a person both the politicians and the people seek for advice, Braam’s explanation does not address what makes Sistani’s moral authority so special and, thus, more influential than other contemporary Shi’i jurists. Braam’s suggestion implies that Sistani enjoys a high level of independence as a religious authority, which makes others, especially politicians, need him. The politicians go to him to seek support when running for office. They recognize Sistani as the one and only marja’, who has the right and power to settle all disputes among political parties.

In fact, Sistani’s political status has been determined by his relationship with the state. The socio-political realities of the post-Saddam Iraq have created a two-way relationship between Sistani and the government of Iraq. As a religious figure, Sistani is independent, but as a political figure, he is dependent on the recognition by the state. A state that is dominated by Shi’i political parties cannot operate without Sistani’s implicit sponsorship, which acts as a stamp of legitimacy for all actions and stances. In short, Sistani and the state need each other.

In his article “The ‘Formal’ Marja’: Shi’i Clerical Authority and the State in Post-2003 Iraq,” Harith al-Qarawee says that the unique relationship between Sistani and the government of Iraq created a “shared space” in which Sistani’s religious authority has been “formalized” (though not constitutionalized) to the extent that he became “extraconstitutional” figure who is very essential to legitimatize Iraq’s political system [7]. As a religious authority, Sistani’s position has been formalized via various state regulations and practices, such as the message of thanks to the “great maraji’”² on the introduction page of the constitution and the passage of a new law that prevents the government from managing atabat (Shi’i holy shrines) without first consulting the highest marja’ [7].

Each article in the literature review above has offered an interesting point, but none of them addresses the tactics and strategies Sistani uses to maintain his position as a powerful figure in post-2003 Iraq. Authors such as Visser and Braam focus on Sistani’s professional interests and jurisprudence because the quietist-activist analysis cannot explain his actions, while al-Rahim and Nasr see the historic subjugation of the Shi’i community by Sunni dominated governments as the best explanation as to why Sistani jumped into politics. Qarawee’s article stresses on the state’s practices and regulations that have formalized Sistani’s status as an extraconstitutional authority the state cannot overlook when making public policy.

This chapter addresses something else; it is interested in Sistani’s strategies and the way he handles the relationship between himself and the state on the one hand and between himself and the people on the other. Sistani became an influential mediator between the state and the people because of his ability to combine Shi’ism with democracy. His approach is neither entirely secular nor entirely Islamist; it is a compromise of the two. He has maintained the balance successfully that neither the government nor the Shi’i population can now ignore his instructions when disagreements occur, at least as of the writing of this chapter.

Many scholars still believe that Islam is undemocratic in nature, and there is no way for democracy to succeed in Muslim countries. Huntington et al. [8, 9, 10] argue that the core teachings of Islam are against democracy and modernization in general. They stress that the Islamic teachings do not align with democratic values, and Islam urges Muslims to follow God’s orders only as He is the one and only source of political power that they must obey. Such opinions, Zolfadli argues, do not differentiate between Islam as “a doctrine or teaching and Islam as a historical-empirical phenomenon developed in Muslim society” ([11], p. 195). Zolfadli goes on that “blaming the dimension of religion as the main factor that hinders the development of democracy in the world tends to simplify social, political, and cultural issues that develop in Muslim societies” ([11], p. 195). It is not surprising that the majority of Muslim countries are less democratic than the Western countries. Potrafke [12] concludes that “the greater the share of Muslims in a population, the smaller the likelihood that a country will have democratic institutions” [p. 191]. This is true; however, the reasons behind this lack of democratic institutions in Muslim countries is not that Islam is incompatible with democracy, but because of the authoritarian governments that control the political life and oppress any democratic movement, as they did with what’s called Arab Spring Movement that swept a number of Arab countries a few years ago. Islam, like any other religion, has its own teachings, morals, ideals, and values that, of course, do not align with every single aspect of democracy. However, one must not think that Islam is monolithic and never develops or adapts to new changes in society. As [13] argues, “when Islam is understood as a monolithic religion, it becomes incompatible with modern democracy. In the same vein, when democracy is conceived to be uncontested, it becomes unmatchable with Islam” [p. 9]. A survey by the Pew Research Center shows that the majority people in six Muslim countries (Egypt, Jordan, Lebanon, Pakistan, Tunisia, and Turkey) favor a democratic political system ([11], p. 199). Not only in these six countries, but also in all other Muslim countries, the majority people are favoring democracy over any other form of political system. However, most of these countries are still undemocratic. The “absence of democracy in Muslim countries such as in the Middle East and North Africa occurs because of the paradox between the ruling regime and the wishes of its people” ([11], p. 199).

As the leaders of the USA injected some religious significances into the body of their democratic secularism [14], and as German religious socialists “worked tirelessly to promote socialism as the core message of the Christian New Testament” ([15], p. 587), Sistani also tried to fuse Shi’ism with democracy and create a compatibility between the two in order for the new political system to survive. He was instructing public that participating in the elections, voting to choose their representatives, and engaging in the democratic process are not against their Islamic beliefs. Sistani used Quranic verses and prophetic ahadith in his speeches and statements when advocated for democratic elections. In doing so, he was developing some sort of new “ritual forms” that were able to push followers toward a democratic system that was not hostile to their main Shi’i beliefs. Examples of these “new ritual forms” were the Sistani-backed street marches that were demanding elections before writing the constitution, assemblies held by Sistani’s assistants to educate people on participating in the elections, Friday’s prayers that were disseminating Sistani’s stances and statements about supporting the new political system, and so on. The social cohesion among the Shi’i population in Iraq was no longer relying on their religious rituals only, but also on these new “political ritual forms” that resembled those created by Western intelligentsia in Europe when Christian influence waned and the “cult of the individual” rose before adopting democracy, as Durkheim would put it [16]. Encouraging Shi’is “religiously” to support the new democratic system was Sistani’s strategy, and he played it carefully.

In the next section, and before we go on details of how Sistani has become a powerful mediator between the state and the people to ensure his sponsorship of a democratic pattern that is at ease with Shi’ism, we will review the two important ruling theories in Shi’i jurisprudence, general wilayat al-faqih and limited wilayat al-faqih, and discuss the main differences between them. It is important to review these two theories to show that they are not necessarily synonymous with activism and quietism, respectively. This is a mistake that many authors make. Quietism and activism are little more than superficial descriptions that cannot explain the complexities that govern the work of the marja’ and al-hawza al-diniyya (Shi’i religious schools for teaching Islamic jurisprudence) and their engagement with the public issues.

3. Limited Wilayat al-Faqih (LWF) vs. General Wilayat al-Faqih (GWF)

Historically, the Twelver Shi’i jurists (‘ulama’) have believed that only the Twelve Ma’sum Imams (infallible leaders), chosen by Allah to rule the people with justice and morality, have an obligated guardianship authority over Muslim society. The main role of Shi’i jurists during al-Mahdi’s Occultation is to maintain the faith and disseminate the imams’ Islamic Shari’a and teachings among the people. The more people become good Muslims, the quicker al-Mahdi will appear to establish justice on Earth. The GWF jurists disagree with the LWF jurists’ opinion and argue that Muslim societies need a trusted religious jurist at the time of occultation to create just and moral societies and prepare for al-Mahdi to appear. The GWF argument is based on only one eminent hadith (religious speech), which was said to have been delivered by imam Ja’far al-Sadeq, the sixth of the Twelve Imams claimed by the Twelvers. The hadith says:

Omar bin Handala came to imam al-Sadeq and asked him that there was a dispute between two good Muslims over few details in religion or inheritance. They went to the sultan’s (caliph) judiciary to solve the problem; was that halal (permitted)? Al-Sadeq said that whoever goes to caliph’s judiciary, he goes to taghut (tyrant), and whatever judgment is made even if it’s right, it’s haram (forbidden) because it comes from the taghut whom Allah in Qur’an asked us to blaspheme. Allah says: “They seek the judgment of taghut although they were commanded not to obey him.” What to do then, Omar asked? Al-Sadeq said that they need to look for one of our adherents who knows our haram and halal and follow our ahkam (judgments); one that I have assigned as a ruler of all of you. If he judges, all must follow otherwise they would be considered against us and, thus, against Allah. Omar replied that what if each one of them chose one of your men and ended up with two different judgments? Al-Sadeq answered that they must follow the one who is more equitable, more knowledgeable about jurisprudence, more truthful, and more devout ([17], p. 15).

The GWF jurists use this hadith to defend their theory regarding the obligation of placing an Islamic jurist at the head of Muslim societies because he is more equitable, more knowledgeable about jurisprudence, more truthful, and more devout than anyone else in the society. The GWF jurists consider this hadith mandatory, claiming that all should follow imam al-Sadeq’s lead.

The LWF jurists argue that this hadith is weak, that it is not validated by Islamic historians who specialize in ‘ilm al-hadith (the science of Islamic speeches). They reason that because Omar bin Handala himself was not confirmed as a trusted close sahabi (friend) of imam al-Sadeq. This specific hadith should not be given as much credence as strongly authenticated hadith, which is why today it is known as the Maqbulat Omar bin Handala (Omar’s tolerable hadith) ([17], p. 16). What’s more, the LWF jurists argue that this hadith should not be read out of its context, even if it appears to be true. It was obvious that imam al-Sadeq was talking about the disputes in litigious affairs and personal status laws such as inheritance; it was not about politics. The LWF jurists believe that the theory of GWF is a violation of what the Imams asked of them during the Occultation. Specifically, they asked that leaders try not to take al-Mahdi’s role and govern people politically. One of the ahadith (pl. hadith) the LWF jurists use to reject the theory of GWF is one that al-Kuleini mentioned in his well-respected book al-Rouda min al-Kafi. This hadith is also said to come from imam al-Sadeq, who famously told his close sahaba (pl. trusted friends) that “any raised flag before al-Mahdi’s flag is a tyrant’s flag and should not be followed” ([18], p. 295). The flag is a metaphor for any religious leader who jumps into the political fray and tries to take the political reins instead of imam al-Mahdi. Regardless of who the ruler is, jurist or not, the majority of Shi’i ‘ulama’ have not religiously justified, authorized, or blessed governments throughout history, based on this deeply rooted belief. Even during the Islamic Buyid dynasty, Shi’i ‘ulama’ did not support Buyid’s rulers, despite the fact that the rulers were Shi’i Muslims who ruled Iraq and Iran in the name of Islam in the tenth century. Moreover, the Buyid ‘ulama’ themselves did not believe in the Islamic caliphate during al-Mahdi’s Occultation ([19], p. 83). It is because all people, including jurists, are fallible and can suppress others since they were not chosen by Allah. Such mistakes could encourage people to reject the rule of Islamic jurists and, thus, the religion of Islam and Allah altogether.

Although most Shi’i jurists do not believe in the GWF theory, that does not necessarily mean that they are opposed to involvement in politics, directly or indirectly. In fact, both LWF and GWF jurists agree on the necessity of engaging in politics when necessary. The main debate between the two factions is not about whether jurists should involve themselves in politics at all. Rather, it is about the extent that a jurist can intervene in politics. For the LWF jurists, ruling Muslim society directly is not permitted during al-Mahdi’s Occultation, but protecting their followers’ interests from substantial threats affecting their political, social, and cultural existence is a fard ‘ayn (obligation). For instance, ayatollah Mirza Mohammad Hasan al-Shirazi, who did not believe in GWF, was an active and influential jurist involved in many political events in Iraq and Iran. He resided in Samarra, the northern part of Baghdad, and at the end of the nineteenth century, he established a new al-hawza al-diniyya in the town. Shirazi was one of the preeminent Shi’i ‘ulama’ who resisted the shah’s politics in Iran and mobilized Iranians against his tyranny. When a British company signed a deal with the shah in 1890 to monopolize the sale of tobacco in Iran, Shirazi issued a fatwa (religious order) asking Iranians not to purchase tobacco in order to break the deal ([20], p. 69). The fatwa became the spark for a widespread revolution in Iran called The Revolution of Tobacco. The deal collapsed seven months later, and both the government of Iran and the British company lost significant sums of money. Shirazi did not start the revolution because he had political ambitions. He opposed the deal simply because he saw that it did not serve the Iranians’ best interests.

Another example of a Shi’i LWF jurist who directly intervened in politics was ayatollah Mirza Mohammed Taqi al-Shirazi. He became the premier marja’ for the Shi’i Muslims in Iraq and elsewhere after Mirza Hasan al-Shirazi passed away in 1895. Taqi al-Shirazi represented a monumental obstacle to the British colonization of Iraq. He issued the fatwa for the revolution of 1920 against the British Mandate in Iraq. Shirazi’s demands became increasingly radical. He started with calls for the removal of British troops from the villages and towns that had experienced violence against the British army, and he progressed to calls for complete independence from British rule. He eventually negotiated on behalf of the Iraqi tribes and clerics for a peaceful transition to independence for Iraq. When the Iraqis felt that the British government was procrastinating in order to gain leverage, Shirazi announced his famous fatwa in 1920, in which he said, “Demanding Iraq’s rights is an obligation on all Iraqis, and they must seek that with no intent to mess the peace and safety. If the British officials refuse the Iraqi demands, Iraqis are allowed to use their defense force” ([21], p. 235). This fatwa was seen as a green light for Iraqis to fight the British colonizers for the sake of state independence. The revolution liberated Iraq from the British colonizers, and Iraq gained its independence officially in 1921.

There are many examples of LWF jurists involving themselves in politics throughout the history of modern Iraq. Generally speaking, involvement in politics has never been an issue when circumstances dictate. The LWF jurists’ objections center around the governing of the state directly by an Islamic jurist. Thus, categorizing LWF and GWF jurists as quietist and activist, respectively, is inaccurate. In fact, the quietist-activist dichotomy does not apply in most cases throughout history. LWF jurists are not quietist and GWF jurists are not activist. These descriptions have been misused to explain superficial aspects of either side. Both philosophies demand the active performance of what they believe is true and right, based on religious scriptures. The core difference between them, as explained above, is that the GWF jurists believe that a jurist has the religious authority to rule people directly while the LWF jurist does not. For the LWF jurists, engagement in politics happens only on an as-needed basis. They do not usually intervene in the details of the political process, but they will intervene when necessary. The GWF jurists seek to rule Muslim societies based on the belief that it is a mandatory duty imposed by Allah.

4. Sistanism: a form of Shi’ism combined with democracy

Like other Shi’i jurists, Sistani is neither quietist nor activist. Instead, he is a typical marja’ who happens to live in an atypical situation. The collapse of Saddam Hussein’s regime in 2003 created a power vacuum, and Sistani, the highest religious authority in Iraq, had to respond and fill that vacuum. He faced the problem of combining Shi’ism and democracy in the process of state-building. While Shi’ism legitimatizes its stances, including political actions, by falling back on whatever the era’s highest marja’ says, the democratic state gains its legitimacy through the votes of the people. Sistani had to carefully draw a fine line between Shi’ism and democracy so that Shi’is would remain true to its marja’iyya and so that the state’s democratic system would receive the support it needed to promote Shi’is’ power. In other words, they needed to follow both their marja’ and the state, rather than just the marja’, as had been the case for centuries. Sistani used two different strategies to ensure that the dual approach would be successful: a democratic strategy and a religious (ideological) strategy. The bayanat and speeches that were directed at politicians and at the people were often rife with both democratic and religious values. He clearly used these two strategies in his first battle over the writing of the constitution. Sistani had to intervene in the constitution-writing process to ensure that the Islamic identity was maintained, then he went before the public to encourage the Shi’i population to vote for the constitution. This was the first battle Sistani needed to win before he could convince Shi’is to engage in politics in Iraq.

Sistani did not want the new constitution to mimic the Iranian Islamic constitution because he was not aiming to establish an Islamic state in Iraq. He knew that the Iranian model did not fit Iraq’s needs, given that the country has multiple sects and ethnicities. Responding to a question from a Japanese reporter, he said that “forming a religious government based on the notion of general wilayat al-faqih is undesirable in Iraq, but the new government should respect the Islamic religion as it is the religion of the majority of Iraqi people and should not endorse what conflicts with the Islamic teachings” ([22], p. 45). He wanted a constitution that could maintain the balance between democracy and Islam. In contrast with the Coalition Provisional Authority (CPA) in Iraq, Sistani insisted on early elections through which Iraqis could freely elect their representatives to the Transitional National Assembly (TNA) to write the constitution before it went to general referendum for ratification. In a written response to a question from a group of Iraqis who sought his advice about the CPA’s intent to assign a constituent body in coordination with political parties to write the constitution and set up general elections, Sistani said:

The CPA does not have authority to assign members for the constituent body, and there is no guarantee that this constituent body would write a constitution that reflects Iraqis’ interests and national identity that is based on Islamic religion and noble social values. The project is totally unacceptable. There must be, first, general elections in which each eligible Iraqi freely selects his representatives in the constituent body for writing the constitution. Then, a general referendum should be set for the public to vote on the constitution. All believers should call for such a process and contribute in this important task, and Allah will bless you all for this good mission. Peace be upon you all ([22], pp. 33–34).

The language of this June-2003 statement demonstrates how Sistani incorporated democracy with Islam to create a powerful combination, with the goal of rejecting the CPA’s plan and calling for general elections to write the constitution. In the midst of discussing what the democratic process of producing the constitution should look like, Sistani did not forget to use religious words such as “believers,” “Allah,” and “bless.” For Iraq’s Shi’i population, the statement not only promoted democracy but also allowed them to adhere to their religious principles.

After Sistani made this statement, millions of Iraqis rallied in Baghdad and other provinces against the CPA’s decision and in support of Sistani’s plan for writing the constitution. It is worth mentioning that the Islamic identity was not Sistani’s only concern in opposing the CPA’s plan. He was also making the argument that a constitution written by non-elected officials could put the country’s future in jeopardy [23]. Many Iraqi intellectuals, political activists, and resistance advocates, including armed groups, were already opposed to the idea of the occupation authority supervising the writing of the constitution because it might not be in the Iraqis’ best interests. Sistani did not want a constitution not written by elected Iraqis to create future dilemmas by throwing the country into a perpetual debate about an “illegitimate” constitution. In the eyes of millions of Iraqis, Sistani became the premier nationalist figure in Iraq. He expertly used the democratic tools to oppose an undemocratic plan for writing the constitution. His opposition to the CPA’s plan gained support “not only in most of Iraq, but also outside, including the US, where several commentators and at least one presidential candidate now support the demand for democratic elections” ([24], p. 16).³

The CPA ultimately succumbed to Sistani’s demands and changed its plans regarding early general elections. It was simply impossible to dispute such a strong democratic argument. Sistani was seen as a master strategist because he “hoisted the Americans by their own petard, putting them in the uncomfortable position of seeming to oppose elections, despite having purportedly launched the war to advance democratic principles” ([25], p. 892). The biggest challenge for Sistani, though, was not the constitution itself. His most pressing concern became maintaining an appropriate distance from the elections while concurrently encouraging people to elect the “right people” for the right mission (i.e., writing the constitution). Sistani had to modify his messages, which were not meant for the CPA or for Iraqi political elites this time but for the people of Iraq, especially the Shi’i population. His strategy was to make his message more “religious” so as to push the Shi’i citizens to participate and elect representatives to write a new and permanent constitution. Sistani did not openly support any political party or electoral coalition in the election, which was scheduled for the 30th of January 2005. However, his office sent many signals that indicated that he was in favor of the electoral Shi’i list, known as the United Iraqi Alliance (UIA), an electoral list that was organized under the supervision of his son, Mohammed Rida Sistani. Although the list consisted of few multi-sectarian parties and figures that would guarantee a national consensus on future political issues, it was overwhelmingly dominated by Shi’i Islamists. In addition, three of Sistani’s preeminent representatives (i.e., Abd al-Mahdi al-Karbalai, Ahmed al-Safi, and Ali Abd al-Hakim al-Safi) were nominated on the UIA list, which was another signal of Sistani’s support. In one of his bayanat a few months before the January 2005 elections, Sistani insisted that all Iraqis register to vote, saying:

All eligible Iraqis, females and males, should make sure that their names registered correctly for voting. If any citizen does not find his name or sees his name listed incorrectly, he must go to the electoral committee in his area and present his ID to register his name or to correct it. All religious representatives and assistants should form popular committees in their areas to assist Iraqis with this important task in order for them all to participate in the elections that we hope it will be held on the scheduled time and be free and honest. God bless ([22], p. 129).

Sistani’s representatives and assistants used religious references to urge people to register to vote and then to vote for the most diverse and the most honest list [read: UIA]. All of these indirect signals made it clear to the Shi’i population that the UIA was the marja’iyya’s electoral list of choice.

The election was held on the 30th of January 2005, and UIA won more than half of the seats in the Transitional National Assembly. As a result, Shi’i Islamists dominated the constituent body responsible for writing the constitution, a monumental victory for Sistani. Consequently, Islam became “the official religion of the state and it is a fundamental source of legislation” ([26], provision 2, article 1), as stated in the final version of the constitution. However, the constitution represented a compromise between religion and democracy and did not “fully define the relationship between Islam and democracy; this relationship will accordingly develop over time, and is likely to be shaped as much by subsequent political developments as by the text itself” ([25], p. 902). Sistani succeeded in forming a political order that incorporated democracy with Islam and encouraged the Shi’i population to actively engage in the process of state-building. The mission could not succeed without the use of both democratic principles and religious precepts. Such a huge success for the Shi’i population cemented Sistani’s status as one of the most influential figures in the country and guaranteed that both Islam and democracy would play roles in post-2003 Iraq. From then on, Sistani would be a “need” for the state for maintaining political stability and a “want” for Shi’i citizens hoping to protect their rights and achieve their goals. Thus, Sistani became a third-party mediator between the state and the people. He created his own space between the two because of his carefully crafted strategy and his soft involvement in the development of the relationship between Shi’ism and democracy.

5. Maintaining mediation

As time passed, Sistani became dissatisfied with the entire political ruling class, due largely to their failure to maintain security, eliminate sectarian politics, and provide basic services to citizens. As a result, Sistani never met with any political figure after 2008; however, he did not give up his role as mediator between the state and the people. He still held the key that unlocked doors that no one else could unlock. During almost every Friday prayer, Sistani’s representatives expressed the marja’iyya’s extreme resentment of the poorly conceived governmental policies for dealing with urgent issues such as corruption, security, sectarianism, the lack of basic services, and unemployment. While Iraqis were increasingly angry with the government and with all political powers, the Prime Minister Nuri al-Maliki and his party (i.e., the Islamic Da’wa Party) were looking to strengthen their sectarian position in the Shi’i community so as to increase the likelihood of winning votes in future elections.

On 27 October 2013, Hasan al-Shammari, Minister of Justice from the Islamic Fadila Party, guided by Shi’i religious marja’ ayatollah Mohammed al-Ya’qubi, presented a draft of a new personal status law called qanun al-ahwal al-ja’fariyya (also known as the Ja’fari Personal Status Law). Al-Shammari called for a vote in al-Maliki’s cabinet before sending the draft to the House of Representatives for passage. The new law was based on Shi’i jurisprudence, and it was meant to regulate the Shi’i population’s own personal status as it pertained to inheritance, marriage, divorce, and other legal disputes. The law was backed by Prime Minister al-Maliki and his Islamic Da’wa Party, which aimed for the Islamization of Iraqi civil life. The law was meant to replace the 1959 secular law, which strongly defended women’s rights and regulated individual’s personal status based on civil legislation rather than on religious interpretations. The Council of Ministers decided to postpone the discussion of the draft until after legislative elections on 30 April 2014. They also wanted to secure Sistani’s approval first as he was (and still) considered the highest Shi’i religious authority in Iraq [27]. Sistani did not comment on the law, but some close sources leaked to the public the fact that he rejected it and advised Shi’i Islamists not to pass it given that such a law would boost sectarianism and increase instability in Iraq [28]. The Council of Ministers, however, ignored Sistani’s advice and did not wait for the elections. They suddenly approved the law in February 2014, and then they sent it to the House of Representatives for passage [19]. The hurried action was seen as a sectarian ploy by the two Islamic allies, Da’wa and Fadila, to gain conservative Shi’i support in the lead-up to the 2014 elections. Many people also believed that it was an attempt to embarrass the grand marja’ Sistani, who was unwilling to support (or reject) the law publicly. Unfortunately for the Council of Ministers, the law did not pass in the House of Representatives, and ayatollah al-Ya’qubi, the religious guide of al-Fadila Islamic Party, led a spiteful campaign against the marja’—without naming him—because of Sistani’s efforts to quash the law. Al-Ya’qubi claimed that all of the main Shi’i jurists in Najaf (where al-hawza al-diniyya is) supported the law, all except one (i.e., Sistani), who had “betrayed imam al-Hussein and Shi’i adherents” by sending a message to the Shi’i representatives encouraging them to reject the law on the day of voting [29, 30].

It is important here to address the question of why the highest religious authority for Shi’i Muslims stood against Islamic shari’a law and rejected the ja’fari personal status law in Iraq. His opposition came as a surprise to some Muslim fundamentalists, whom the Shi’i Islamists tried to manipulate. The truth is that Sistani did not stand against the ja’fari law because it is a ja’fari law; rather, he opposed it because he believed that such a sectarian law was not practical for a country like Iraq, home to many sects and different religions. He believed that the law would lead to more sectarian divisions. For example, he thought it was likely that the Sunnis and the Christians would ask for their own personal status law as well. Additionally, such a law contradicts the constitution, which states in provision 41 that “Iraqis are free in choosing their personal status law according to their religions, sects, beliefs, and their own choices” ([26], provision 41). Sistani, who had already agreed to the constitution, aligned his stance with that of thousands of Iraqis who marched against the ja’fari law. There was also external opposition to the law from U.N. officials like the special delegate of the secretary general in Iraq, Nikola Miladinov, and from global organizations such as Human Rights Watch [31]. They requested that the government not impose ja’fari law in Iraq because it would violate human rights regulations regarding the rights of women and children in Iraq.

The pressure was not only on al-Maliki’s government but also on Sistani’s office, which received calls from Iraqis who wanted to stop the law. Minister of Women’s Affairs Ibtihal al-Zaidi submitted a legal objection to the law and requested from the marja’iyya to protect women from such a rights-restricting law [31]. Sistani’s stance against the law was, once again, an act of mediation between the state and the people. His actions also acted as a warning to the government about overlooking the mediator when planning fundamental changes. Sistani did not want Iraq to be ruled by Islamic law, be it Shi’i or Sunni law, but he did want Iraq to maintain its Islamic identity. For Sistani, the constitutional provision that held that “no law should contradict thawabit ahkam al-Islam (principle judgments of Islam)” ([26], provision 2, article 1-A) was sufficient for maintaining that identity. He felt that the Da’wa Party had crossed a line in its attempt to Islamize the state. He turned to the people and strengthened their democratic opposition to the government in order to maintain the balance between Shi’ism and democracy and, thus, between Islam and secularism. Maintaining that balance is crucial for maintaining the mediator’s role, for ensuring that democracy would not be disregarded by the Islamists (government), and also for protecting religion (including the marja’ status) from an excessive dose of democracy demanded by people. In short, Sistani the mediator sustains the relationship between the state and the people while Sistani the marja’ guarantees the compatibility of Shi’ism and democracy. Ja’fari law was a threat from Islamists, which might have upset that careful balance. Any imbalance between the state and the people could lead to instability in Iraq, which would also threaten Sistani’s status as the powerbroker in post-2003 Iraq. More democracy could threaten Sistani’s religious authority while more Shi’ism could create new authorities that may displace (or decenter) him.

One example of an attempt to decenter Sistani’s influence was the Da’wa Party’s marketing of the bayanat of ayatollah Mahmood al-Shahrudi (an Iranian high profile marja’)⁴, which contradicted Sistani’s advice about replacing Prime Minister al-Maliki with another candidate in 2014. During the April-30 elections of that year, al-Maliki’s electoral list dawlat al-qanun won 95 seats out of 328 in the House of Representatives. His list became the biggest electoral bloc, which increased al-Maliki’s chances for a third term in office as prime minister. But Sunnis and Kurds, in addition to other Shi’i political powers, raised the red flag against al-Maliki’s third term because they blamed him for the rise of sectarianism, an increase in corruption, and, later, the failure to confront the Islamic State’s fighters (IS) in securing Iraqi territory. Al-Maliki refused to step down despite the strong opposition to his nomination. The disagreement lasted for months, and without compromise, it was impossible to form a new government. Members from the Da’wa Party downplayed the situation for fear of losing prime minister position. If their political opponents allied together, they would have made the biggest bloc in the House of Representatives.

Hoping to stave off defeat, they sent a letter to Sistani, seeking his advice in a suitable way to extricate themselves from the political mess. Sistani responded with a letter in which he advised the political powers to choose a new candidate, one who would be able to achieve consensus and unite the country politically, especially in its efforts to defeat IS [32]. As a result, the Da’wa Party divided into two wings: one wanted to nominate a new member from the party, and the other rejected Sistani’s advice and stood with al-Maliki. The wing that opposed al-Maliki won the bid and decided to nominate Haider al-Abadi, but al-Maliki and a few other members continued to oppose al-Abadi’s nomination. Al-Maliki did not accept Sistani’s advice, and he threatened to incite his followers to march in thousands to protect al-Maliki’s position as prime minister. In an indirect battle with Sistani, the al-Iraqiyya TV Channel, an official channel funded by the government, showed Shahrudi’s bayanat in support of al-Maliki for days. Suddenly, Shahrudi’s name was all over the news, and his bayanat were repeatedly announced on TVs, specifically those bayanat that asked “religious leaders” (i.e., Sistani) not to interfere in the determination of the next prime minister. This was al-Maliki’s attempt to turn Shahrudi into a reliable religious authority that stood in opposition to Sistani on the al-Maliki issue. According to some sources, Sistani had to address this issue with the Supreme Leader of the Islamic Republic of Iran, ayatollah Ali Khamenei. He argued that Shahrudi’s support of al-Maliki would not be in Iraq’s interest, and Iraq urgently needed a new prime minister [32]. The pressure from Sistani and other political powers, including half of the Da’wa members, finally put an end to al-Maliki’s ambitions. He eventually realized that the clash with Sistani would be a political suicide, and he decided to step down and let al-Abadi form the new cabinet. In September of 2017, three years into the incident, Shahrudi visited Najaf and asked to see Sistani, but Sistani refused the meeting without explanation [33].

Sistani’s veto of al-Maliki did not succeed because of his religious authority or because he was an activist. It succeeded because he was continually able to reposition himself between the state and the people in order to maintain his role as mediator between them. Such mediation cannot be maintained if the mediator is biased against one of the two sides. Sistani was the sponsor of the state and the Shi’i political powers in post-2003 Iraq, and he was also the voice of the people when their rights were violated by the state. He masterfully maintained the balance between the state and the people and between Shi’ism and democracy. Interestingly, he seemed more tolerant of secularism as an appropriate approach to ruling a modern pluralistic country like Iraq, though he never expressly stated his opinion on the matter. He made his preference known when he backed the secular protesters who had overrun most Iraqi provinces in July of 2015. The protesters sought political reforms and restrictions on religious involvement in politics. Their main mantra was “Bread, Freedom, and Civil State.” They clearly condemned the Islamist politicians by holding protest signs that contained messages such as, “We’re Robbed in the Name of Religion” [34]. What most energized these marches was Sistani’s supportive bayanat via his representatives during Friday prayers. In one Friday prayer, Sistani pressured Prime Minister Haider al-Abadi to hit corrupters with an iron fist, and the prime minister immediately stated after the prayer that he was committed to Sistani’s directions [35]. Of course, he knew what would happen if he did not commit. He had learned a lesson from al-Maliki’s fight with Sistani. The protesters called for secularism in a crystal clear voice, and, in an ironic twist, they got continual support from Sistani’s representatives during Friday prayers.

6. Conclusion

The democratic system of post-2003 Iraq has uniquely been processed and designed by which democracy is fortified with the kind of Shi’ism ayatollah Sistani promotes. Sistani’s power has not been based on his religious status only and has nothing to do with quietism or activism. Instead, it was derived from the thin line that he drew between Shi’ism and democracy. He acts as a guarantor who promises sustainability in the relationship between Shi’ism and the state, with no need of general wilayat al-faqih. Using various religious and democratic tactics, he has succeeded in creating his own space between the state and the people, wherein both sides now need him when disagreements occur. Sistani seemingly believes in pluralism and knows that the democratization project in Muslim countries, for instance, suffers as a result of the harsh contradictions between secularism and Islamism. He contributed to the framing of a political system that has somehow managed to entangle religion with politics so as to avoid this contradiction. This entanglement is obvious in the constitution, which maintains the Islamic identity of Iraq while cultivating democracy as a political system. Sistani is not interested in imposing religion on the people because he knows that it may threaten the careful balance he has created between religion (Shi’ism) and politics (democracy) and, thus, endanger the stability of Iraq as a modern state. Although he is the premier religious figure in Iraq, he apparently leans to a democratic system than to a theocratic rule.

Sistani knows that democracy is not a linear process but a “problem space” that cannot avoid the deeply rooted traditions of Islam in the legal and social order of Iraq. Political Islam is problematic and cannot be a solution in a multi-sectarian country like Iraq. Islam is, for Muslim fundamentalists, a way of life. It instructs Muslims on every detail of their lives. As a result, Islam may become an obstacle for politicians who aim for democratization. In order for “the new Iraq” to survive all the upheaval and disorder that roiled other Muslim countries, a compromise must be struck between Islam and democracy. Sistani’s approach is such a compromise. He entangled Islam with democracy to great effect. He embedded Shi’ism into the government, but he also made sure that the government acts as a check on Shi’ism. Sistani is continually repositioning himself strategically between the state and the people. He is not aligned with either, but then he is also not opposed to either. He occupies his own space, which encompasses the space of the state and the people together, but his space is not self-determined. It is a product of the relationship between the state and the people, and it is contingent on the sustainability of that relationship. In other words, Sistani’s space does not exist outside this relationship, though it seems much bigger than the other spaces taken together. He needs the state’s recognition and the obedience of the Shi’i population, and they, in turn, both need his sponsorship to legitimize their actions. This complex formula has given Sistani the chance to be an effective mediator. Any disturbance in this precariously balanced three-party relationship will impact Sistani’s role as mediator. That is, it will affect his function but not necessarily his religious status. Sistani needs the entanglement of Shi’ism and democracy in order to maintain his mediator role and ensure the functionality of the political system he sponsors. No one knows what the future and trajectories of this type of democracy, Sistanist democracy, would be.

This chapter hoped to contribute to our understanding that Islam (and Shi’ism) is not inherently a hindrance to democracy nor an obstacle to modernization when appropriate circumstances permit. Such circumstances are, for instance, when a compromise is reached between the political class and the religious figures on the definition and determination of what public and private spaces are, a social awareness is raised and mobilized to tolerate different beliefs and practices, and people are convinced that Islam and democracy can work with each other for greater good. For the government and Shi’i people alike, Sistani was a point of contact between Shi’ism and democracy, and his mediation between the two is so important for this sort of democratic Shi’ism to survive. However, this does not mean that Sistanism has politically been institutionalized in post-2003 Iraq; he has, as [7] argues, been formalized to the extent that he became “extraconstitutional” figure the government and the people both are in need of him, at least up to this moment. Neither the politicians (the majority of them) nor Sistani himself will be at ease with the idea of politically institutionalizing Sistanim as this may pose a threat to the status of both entities (the government and the religiously/politically independent marja’iyya) and undermine democracy in future. With that being said, Sistani’s power has been but a sort of moral guardianship over the political operation in post-2003 Iraq, not in an Islamic Iranian way where the faqih has the absolute and complete guardianship over the government and the people, but in a certain way that is carefully and uniquely designed to fit the social, political, and cultural context of “the new Iraq.” For the Shi’i people who have historically been marginalized by their Sunni dominated governments in Iraq and suspicious of any secular political system, such a moral guardianship that comes from their highest marja’ is needed for them to trust their new political system and feel safe under this carefully sponsored democracy.

Acknowledgments

This work was supported by Arizona State University. The chapter has received funding from ASU for Open Access publication. Many thanks to ASU for their generosity and support.